


On the Mend

by ladysisyphus



Category: Heavy Rain
Genre: Post-Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:07:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21724981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladysisyphus/pseuds/ladysisyphus
Summary: Trauma doesn't stop just because you get brought out of the water.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	On the Mend

**Author's Note:**

> Set about a year and a half post-game; assumes you got the (mostly) good endings with tanks and book deals, and that Ethan failed his motel getaway quicktime events.

By the time Ethan showed up at the school, Shaun's lip had nearly stopped bleeding, but the wide-eyed expression he gave his father through the main office's window didn't look like it would dry up anytime soon. Ethan, for his own part, tried not to let too much disappointment or worry show as he went through the now-familiar paperwork involved in signing Shaun out for the day. He wondered if the school would have been so understanding about this from any of its students whose trauma _hadn't_ become a matter of nationally broadcast public record, but had long since decided questioning leniencies was not in their shared best interest.  
  
When the stern-faced vice principal brought Shaun forward, Ethan gathered his son into a gentle hug. " _Daaad_ ," Shaun protested, ever the embarrassed adolescent, but he wrapped his arms around Ethan's waist with a ferocity that bypassed his own complaints.  
  
Ethan kissed him on the head -- which brought about a fresh round of griping _and_ a tighter squeeze from Shaun, never let it be said anyone else had claim to the title of the King of Mixed Messages -- and nodded at the vice principal, whose patient smile looked particularly thin today. "Thanks, Mr. Utley," Ethan nodded. "We've got an appointment at his therapist's on Thursday."  
  
Pacified, the vice principal shut the office door, and Ethan nudged Shaun down the walk to the visitor's parking lot. Shaun followed at a hovering distance, far enough away from his father that they weren't touching, but close enough that they could have, if he'd wanted to. "So, what happened, buddy?" Ethan poked at a spot of blood on Shaun's shirt. "I mean, beyond the obvious."  
  
"Doug Brentner is a simian life form, and has many of the markers of a future serial killer," Shaun announced, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. Ethan didn't have to think long to figure out where his son might have picked up _those_ particular turns of phrase. "He should be medicated to control his antisocial tendencies."  
  
Ethan clicked open the car door locks, and Shaun tossed his backpack into the back before climbing into the front. "So ... you hit him."  
  
Shaun fidgeted with the options on the car stereo for a moment, finally turning the whole business off before settling back into his seat. "Mostly he hit me." He kicked a little, but his legs were already far too long to outright swing; he was nearly as tall as Ethan's shoulder already, and Ethan suspected Shaun might be downplaying damage estimates.  
  
With a sigh, Ethan backed out of the parking lot and started winding his way off the school grounds. It was a nice school, full of people who had been exceptionally understanding about Shaun's particular emotional needs, and if it didn't work out, the next place they had to go would likely not be nearly so nice _or_ understanding. "I just ... you know I worry about you, buddy." He reached over and rubbed Shaun's shoulder to let him know he wasn't angry, not even disappointed, just concerned. "School is important, and so is making friends."  
  
"School is _stupid_." Shaun folded his arms across his chest in a great huff. "And I _have_ friends. Mr. Jayden is a _great_ friend. Can he come over for dinner tonight?"  
  
The part of Ethan that didn't want to reward Shaun's having gotten in a fight went to war with the part of him that knew that Shaun mostly got into fights when he was feeling in some way scared and lonely, and the latter part -- aided by a reserve battalion of Ethan's knowing that Norman could mount a don't-get-in-fights offensive Ethan couldn't even hope to support -- utterly destroyed the opposition. "Only -- and I stress _only_ \-- if he's free. Okay? He's a very busy man with a very important job," Ethan said, even as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone.  
  
Shaun unlocked the screen and tapped it twice, activating some speed dial he'd programmed that Ethan had never figured out. Five seconds later, Shaun was grinning so wide Ethan was afraid he'd re-injure his mouth. "Hi, Mr. Jayden! Dad wants to know what you want for dinner tonight."  
  
If he hadn't been using both his hands for driving, Ethan would have slapped his forehead. " _If_ he's free," he reminded Shaun.  
  
Shaun rolled his eyes and tilted the speaker of the phone away from his mouth. "He says Thai."  
  
In the grand scheme of things, keeping Shaun happy wasn't hard -- weird, definitely, but not hard. "Tell him seven," Ethan said with a sigh, but he was smiling as he turned onto the beltway toward home.


End file.
